


To Whom It May Concern

by your_local_mook



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel/Dean Winchester One Shot, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Letter, Light Angst, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Couple, One Shot, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Short One Shot, some small fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24180238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_local_mook/pseuds/your_local_mook
Summary: Castiel finds it easier to write about his grief than to share it verbally, and he does so in a letter.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	To Whom It May Concern

There are many experiences in life I don’t have the right words for, yet some I do. I feel like this is one of the latter ones. I don’t have the strength to say all of this out loud, so I suppose writing my thoughts down will have to do, for now.

Maybe one day I will be brave enough to let it all out.

They say angels don’t have a heart, that warriors of heaven aren’t meant to love. I suppose, in a way, that was the original concept; powerfuls beings who live with the eternal duty of guarding all that was good and holy, and showing a better path to those who were neither. We were meant to be the shepherds of the Earth, of humans… unfeeling hands of light to help guide and mould and shape.

How wrong we all were.

Angels feel just as deeply as humans do, if not more. Angels get just as lost, often begging for guidance ourselves. We have stumbled, lost sight of our path, and fallen more times than any of us would like to admit.

We also mourn, our grief often too great for words.

It's a curse, really, having a ridiculously elongated lifespan. You remember everyone you ever cared for, everyone who ever left you. You remember those who you never got to say goodbye to, as well as the reason why they left. Yes, sometimes, I was the reason; in a lot of ways, that memory haunts me more than anything.

What's done is done, though. You cannot change the past, not truly. You can only move forward carrying the greatest burden of them all: loss.

I light a candle for each one I mourn, on the anniversary of their… death. It's such a difficult word to think, let alone say. Friends, family, anyone who left a mark on me that I could never forget. Tonight, I light one for Samandriel. 

Family is complicated, no doubt about that. And no matter how you may have felt about them, once they're gone, you can't help but miss them, in some way. Of course, some families are too cruel to ever miss. I should know. The Winchesters know it, too. This time, however, I have a good reason to miss the one I mourn.

I never truly meant to kill him. I wish I hadn't. Even back in heaven, I grew fond of the small angel. He was one of very few who admired me for my "weakness". At least, that's what my heart was known as at the time. I… I suppose he saw something in me that I hadn't seen myself. He saw a strong bond in the chain, and not a weak link, so to speak. I wonder if I'm using that term right. I wish I could ask him. Let me talk to him once, just once. Would he even allow it? Would he even bear to hear my name, knowing it was my blade that ended his life, knowing that my face is the face of his killer? 

Why him? That's the question I often wonder. Why take him, and not take me? By rights, Samandriel should be alive and well, and I should have taken his place long ago. Even in our ranks, he was just a boy, with or without a proper vessel to portray that. Ah, little brother. I wish I could take this pain from both of us. 

"Cas?"

A familiar voice. An anchor, before I spiral off too deep into my own thoughts. I turn to see Dean peeking his head in through the doorway, worry and curiosity mingling into one facial expression. His eyes flick from me on the edge of my bed, to the small candle on my bedside table. I see the understanding on his face; he knows about my little ritual, so to speak.

"Dean," I reply, patting the space on the bed beside me. "Come in."

Even when invited in, Dean displays some caution in his actions.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," he says, settling down beside me. One of his arms wraps comfortably around my shoulders, and I lean into him.

"You were, but it was a good kind of interruption."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. I'm glad that you're here."

A kiss on my head. I can't help but smile. Dean always makes me smile.

"I'm glad you're here, too," he whispers into my hair. Somehow, I get the feeling he's not just talking about my physical presence, but I don't have the energy to discuss it tonight. “Who’s that for?” Dean asks, pointing to the candle with his free hand.

“Samandriel.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”

We sit in silence for the longest time, and I admit, in that interval, I’m drawing as much comfort from Dean as I can. When my breathing becomes unstable, I close my eyes, and Dean uses that as his cue to run his hand up and down my arm. Part of me wonders what I would do without the human who taught me how to love, not just carry a heart. The human who caught me when I fell, and has continued to hold me ever since, despite our conflicts. Dean is someone I could never part with, even if I wanted to. I know the basis of our fight against the supernatural is the rejection of fate, but I can’t help but think that somehow, something with Dean feels right. Like I belong with him.

Right now, he is the only thing keeping me sane enough to just… be. 

As if he were reading my mind, Dean ran his thumb over the silver wedding band on my left hand, and I, in turn, do the same to his matching one.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. The candle flame is still there, flickering, dancing, bathing the room in half light and half shadow. It was soft, yet could be easily snuffed out, like the life that was suddenly ended on this night, all those years ago. “I know you need to sleep soon and I don’t, but could you stay with me?”

Dean lets go of me only to lie down on the bed. He then pulls me towards him, and I have no objections to being cuddled by my husband. I think I need it.

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving,” he whispers, kissing my forehead. A certain kind of calmness seeps in, and as I close my eyes, all I am left with is the memory of Samandriel, and the promise of something better to come.

That was two hours ago. I’m writing this as he sleeps, and though I already miss his embrace, I can’t ignore the urge to put my thoughts onto paper.

I may never stop mourning. Not for all the years I have left to live. But whatever I have done, I won’t allow it to stop me from living. I owe my new family that much, and more importantly, I owe that to myself.

To whoever is reading this, take your time. Loss is not something one easily gets over, however, I hope you make peace with it. I’ve found mine. Now it’s your turn.

_~ Castiel Winchester_

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been floating around in my head for a few days now. Like Cas, I needed to get it out in written form.
> 
> Also, if y'all could view my other works, that would be great :)


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